Tamashii no Rufuran
by mirai aria
Summary: Bad Luck and Eiri find themselves in an alternate universe where kings, queens and a nonkiddy Ryuichi exist. They're asked to help fight against evil tm and Eiri says 'no', but when Shuichi get's possessed by a vengeful ghost.. Well.. things change....
1. 01 Parallel

Disclaimer: Before we begin, let's say the standard disclaimer! Gravitation doesn't belong to me and if I did… um. It probably wouldn't be as fun as it is now! Maki Murakami does and for that we're all happy, ne? 

A/N: Don't murder me. I just had to get this one out. I have The Phantoms' **Kanashi i Nikki no Mahoutsukai** (which is neat, neat, neat) to thank for this - the more I read into it, the more my muses bugged me to write this wonderful not-so-little, obviously-series fic. I told myself I'd do it after finishing **Yuki** but you really can't do anything much when your muses, who happen to like sharp pointy objects, take one of the important characters from it, namely Yukito, hostage with a sharp little knifey. ^_^; So, I deliver **Tamashii no Rufuran**… the weird fic that people who have read one of my stories will recognize, without a doubt. : 3 I wonder if anyone will be able to guess which fic this is sequel for… hee…  Anyway, still unedited and weird… I hope people don't murder me for this. _ I hope people don't think I copied it off The Phantoms' great fic…  (I really need to get a beta reader…) 

Sketches for this one: 

http : // www . angelfire . com/games4/white_crescent/_04-13-2_hiddenbeauty-sketch.jpg

http : // www . angelfire . com/games4/white_crescent/fated-siblings.jpg

http : // www . angelfire . com/games4/white_crescent/tainted-wings.jpg

And finally - .hack//SIGN's **The World** would be a good song to listen at some parts in this fic. 

**TAMASHII NO RUFURAN**

**[Parallel 01]**

_Soft, blank eyes swept through the impenetrable darkness that enveloped his small form, suspended from the ground by thorny vines. The dull pain in his mid-section was keeping him awake, as it always did, thus denying his body of its much-needed rest for yet another night, or day. The endless night that he knew would stretch forever had long extinguished any hope in him of freedom and rest. He'd lost count of how many sleepless nights had passed him and had stopped wondering long ago when the world ceased to acknowledge his pitiful existence. _

_He closed his eyes, welcoming the different kind of darkness the action brought him, and allowed himself to wonder in futility, once more, when the torment would finally end. The loneliness was eating at him, boring holes into his already battered and wounded soul, and yet sparing just enough so he wouldn't break and fall into the clutches of insanity. There were times when he wished insanity would just overcome him, then all awareness of his current state would finally go, but he knew he was just too strong-willed, too optimistic, yes, even at times like this, to break. Life had always been like this to him. And if it was not the fathomless darkness to accompany it, it was… _**_him_**_. He wished for none of __his entertainment, however well it did to quench his thirst for companionship. _

_A long streak of red rolled past him, unraveling before his eyes and glowing in the hopeless darkness like a beacon. It was like a long line of fine silk and reminded him of the colorful garments the women in his kingdom wore on a bright summer day. His eyes widened when a streak of orange darted out of the darkness shortly after the red one did and began wrapping around his body, bringing comfort and almost-forgotten warmth to his weakened body. A streak of yellow followed shortly after then a green one and then a blue one and finally, a bright, soft purple one.  But instead of wrapping around his body or dancing in circles and brushing against his almost numb flesh, the purple streak of light purposely came to rest in the palm of his right hand, which he'd stretched out by instinct. _

_A soft voice cut through the darkness in the form of a soft white light, tickling his ears and reminding him of how the sound of water rushing in a brook sounded like in spring, or how a laugh was, or how music was. He opened his mouth, wishing to join the voice with his, remembering the beats and tunes of the festive music they played during the Winter Festivals, or Month of Harvest. _

_Tears formed on the edges of his eyes and when he opened them, he was welcomed by the thick darkness that was always there and a boy with bright blue eyes and soft, reddish locks framing his heart-shaped face and falling over his eyes. The boy smiled at him before extending a pale hand forward, as if asking him to reach for his hand, to take his hand in his._

Shuichi 

Blue eyes opened in a slow, lazy motion and the flaming skies that marked the ending of yet another day reflected on the thin layer of moisture that coated his eyes. For a long while, he stared at the horizon with wide unblinking eyes, unable to comprehend what was before him until it hit him that a few minutes ago it had been midday and it couldn't have gotten so late that fast. He sat up, lifting a hand from his side to run it through his soft, pink locks, and then lifted his other hand to his eyes, noticing with quiet wonder how a single blade of grass was stuck to his now damp and muddy hand.

He narrowed his eyes and stared hard at the blade of grass, concentrating on its green as if that would help him remember where he was. Or what he was doing wherever he was.

"Yuki, I think we're lost…."

He winced when a pain at the back of his eyes shot up and with much difficulty he rose on his own two feet then looked around. The sight that met him refused to register in his mind for a good long while.

_"No problem! We can always call for the search party~!"_

He took a hesitant step forward and then crouched down, examining the man who was lying face-first in front of him. With his mind in a jumbled mess, he tried to figure out who the man was and what he had in connection with him. He reached a hand forward to touch the damp, blonde hair on the man's head and felt a lock of it between his thumb and index finger.

"K-san, we're the lost people, not the ones looking! Besides, I don't think we'll get a signal here…."

Before he knew it, he had crawled on all fours to get an even closer look of the man, knowing deep down that if he somehow figured out and remembered who this man was then the rest would just come flooding back. He just felt so amazing disoriented, he declared to himself quietly when he slipped his fingers deeper into those soft blonde tresses and sighed.

_"Sheesh. Calm down everyone… Shuichi, don't worry, we'll find a way back, somehow…. Where's Sakano anyway?"___

The man stirred beneath his touch and he drew his hand back, wary of the movement his actions had caused. The man was waking up and he anticipated it, knowing very well that it would be a lot easier with someone to ask questions and receive answers from. That was, unless, the man had forgotten whatever else had happened before this, like him. He pouted and was about to stand up when a hand grabbed his retreating hand and pulled him down. Sharp golden eyes met with his blue ones and his breath caught.

"Shut up. Being noisy isn't going to get us anywhere."

"Yuki!" Shuichi squealed before throwing his arms around Eiri, who had by then, managed to sit up. The romance novelist frowned at him 'affectionately' before running hand through his hair and then peeling the arms around his neck. "You're choking me, Shuichi." Eiri told his lover quietly and Shuichi pulled away with an apologetic grin. 

"Sorry, Yuki." Shuichi whispered quietly and Eiri managed a genuine yet pained smile. Shuichi helped him up without being asked and giggled when the blonde muttered something about irritating headaches popping out at the most unfortunate time. 

"Where are we?" The blonde novelist asked suddenly, his eyes suddenly filled with what could only be confusion when Shuichi looked up. The pink-haired vocalist followed his lover's gaze and found himself swept away by the view before them.

It was just then that he realized they were standing in a plateau and from there they had a bird's eye view of a wide stretch of land that could only belong in one's vivid imagination. There were forests, wide stretches of them in different hues of green on the land below, and cities, towns that looked like they were made of gold and silver as they seemed to shine in the setting sun's dying light. Shuichi took a step back and whipped his head around to give Eiri a look that easily told of his disbelief and confusion. This definitely was not Japan.

"Shuichi! Yuki! _Good!_ You're awake!" The pink-haired vocalist snapped his head to the direction of the unmistakable voice and found their American manager running towards the two of them, waving his magnum around dangerously, with both Suguru and Hiro on tow.  "K-K…san?" Shuichi blinked at K and was about to say something more when his best friend grabbed him by his wrists and began dragging him away, throwing Eiri a hasty order to just 'run' in the process.

"No time, Shuichi-just run. _Fast_." Hiro told him in between pants and Shuichi gave him a firm nod even though he wasn't quite sure what was happening and why they were running like this. K said something about chasing people when his blonde lover demanded an explanation but Shuichi couldn't be sure because everything seemed to be happening so fast and his mind was reeling. They weren't in Japan anymore. Sakano wasn't with them and the cities they had seen couldn't have possibly belonged to the world they lived in. 

"There they are-!" The repeated cries rang in Shuichi's ears and he wasn't sure why they sounded a lot louder but before he knew it he had unconsciously lifted both hands to cover his ears. The cries got closer, eventually drowning out the sound of rustling bushes as K led them deeper into the forest, tearing through undergrowth and low-lying branches. They ran in silence, not knowing the exact danger waiting them and knowing only that they needed to run. It wasn't even because K had ordered them to run - deep down, they knew they had to make an effort— it was just… there.

"Just run, you won't get anywhere."

The oddly familiar voice prompted Shuichi to come into an abrupt halt and he whipped around, despite both Hiro and Eiri's protest, just in time to see oddly pale green colored gusts of winds rolling towards them. Shuichi let out a sharp gasp before being carried off his feet by the wind and he didn't have time to issue a word of warning, let alone see if it was just him the wind had carried off. 

_"They're mine, okay? Not yours - I found them first!"_ another voice cried, this time it undeniably belonged to a female, just as he felt his body hitting the soft, wet ground. Gritting his teeth and sure he had broken a bone or two, he cracked an eye open and noticed the two persons standing in front of him, clothed in odd and heavy-looking robes that reminded him of traditional Japanese clothes, before anything else. Masks that seemed to be made of both silver and gold and beads - seemingly hundreds of them, covered their faces and Shuichi couldn't tell anything about them except the fact that one of them seemed to have long red hair while the other…. black? 

His eyelids felt oddly heavy and when he heard a cold, eerily familiar whisper at the back of his mind that beckoned for him to sleep, he complied without question. 

"Shuichi! Dammit - Shuichi, wake up!" 

It was his Yuki's voice, but it seemed so distant. Still, Shuichi pushed from the deep recesses of his mind to return to the waking reality. Slowly, he opened his eyes and an odd sense of déjà vu filled him, remembering how he had woken up, it seemed hours ago, the first time in this world, wherever it was. Maybe it all had been a dream and now, he was back in Japan.

The cold, damp floor, with the pieces of hay strewn all over it, that first met his eyes told Shuichi he wasn't back in Japan just yet. "_Shuichi_ - look at me… Shuichi…." Eiri's voice was soft and hushed, almost pleading and Shuichi lifted his gaze up slowly and found his lover watching him from the other side of a set of bars. Fear gripped Shuichi's heart and he immediately got up from the floor with the sole intention of getting as close to his lover as humanly possible only to find himself held back by something. He looked at his sides in panic and found his wrists bound by iron clasps that were in turn, connected to the wall behind him by long, heavy rusted chain. 

Not one to give up easily though, he still tried, wanting to see the how far he could go, hoping he could - at least - reach the bars to wrap his bare hands around them and to see just how big the distance between him and his lover was. His wrists hurt, the iron clasps seeming to tighten and burn the flesh underneath it. 

"Shuichi. Stop." When he didn't, the blonde novelist repeated his plead louder, "_Idiot_ - stop it!"

"Yuki…." Shuichi whimpered and watched as his lover turned away from him. 

"Don't… do that…again." Eiri whispered carefully, taking deep breaths in between. "You'll be fine…"

Shuichi noticed the crack in his lover's voice and knew, more than anything, who needed who. Eiri needed him by his side; Shuichi knew that and the fact that the worry was getting to his lover. 

"I'll be fine." Shuichi confirmed, crawling back - away from the bars - and not once did his eyes leave his lover's.  He managed a small smile and the two sat in silence, separated by iron bars and an empty aisle, and in peace until it was broken by the loud sound of footsteps echoing across the dungeon.

"The pink-haired one. Be careful around him - him _and_ the brunette."

The hushed whisper did not escape their ears as the silence projected it, making it seem ten times louder. Shuichi could only huddle closer to the wall in a final act of defiance when they came to his cell, casting an ominous shadow upon his form and blocking Eiri out of his eyesight.

They opened the door to his cell and stepped in one by one. There were three of them, all dressed in heavy robes that covered everything except their eyes. The one who had positioned himself directly in front of him before waving a hand around in silent order was considerably shorter than the other two who had positioned themselves on both sides of the room.  Shuichi let out a loud cry of protest, which made Eiri stiffen visibly, when one of the men, after having removed the metal clasps that bound him to the wall, bound his hands together by an iron chain. Another placed a sack over his head. He heard the sound of keys jingling and then metal doors being pushed open, their rusted hinges squeaking, followed by outraged cries from whom he guessed was Suguru and Hiro respectively then he was dragged away without warning. It took a while for him to walk properly because of the chains connected to the iron rings they had somehow put on both of his feet. 

"Take him away." The voice definitely belonged to a woman and even if it were muffled by layers and layers of thick clothing, Shuichi was sure of it. Whoever was holding the iron chains that wrapped around his wrists, painfully making sure they made no unnecessary movements, and attached to the iron rings on both of his feet pulled at him and he almost fell forward, unable to see the action beforehand, and Eiri, who must have seen it, hissed loudly.

"Hurt him and I_ will_ make sure you pay." Shuichi heard his lover and though their captors blatantly ignored the award-winning novelist's threat, he felt a little more relieved knowing he wasn't alone in this and that, above all, his Yuki cared.

"I'll be okay." He whispered quietly and smiled, even though nobody could have seen that smile. He hoped Eiri heard.

***

The door opened and closed quietly, and the longhaired blonde paused in the middle of putting back a book on the Northern Kingdom's warring history into the shelf. He threw a pointed glare towards the direction of the door before finally pushing the book into the shelf and breathing in sharply, so to keep in the venomous words that threatened to come out at any moment.

"I take it you're not here to consult the Royal Historian on Historical facts." The man whispered quietly without turning around to see who had entered the Royal Library. He knew who it was - there were only so many people brave enough to enter the Library without proper reason and since, last he checked, the possibility of an outright war was nil, that left four people only. Three of those were either busy or out of town and that left just one…

The sound of footsteps followed by an amused, almost childish, laughter filled the deafening silence of the whole library. He knew there could only be one person in the whole Kingdom with that laugh and he happened to detest that man, the same way that man detested him.

"Never the entertainer, eh, Yuki Eiri?" His visitor said in a highly amused drawl. "Ah…. That's why your little brother made it into Performer status and _you_ didn't." 

Yuki smiled, his lips curving into that malicious, sarcastic grin and said without a shred of humility, "Then, our Lord Tohma wouldn't have his beloved little _librarian_ safe from the scarring battles now, would he?" He spun around, the tail of his long, obsidian black coat swirling about his form like liquid. Golden eyes fell onto the man standing at the other end of the aisle with cold indifference. "Hn?"

The other man made no movement – the Historian noticed nothing with his limited eyesight in comparison with the veteran Performer-turned-Scientist's inhuman eyesight.

"You should come to the hall." The Performer said quietly with a hint of bitterness before spinning around and turning his back on the Historian. "The least you can do for him is that."

Yuki watched with an expressionless face as the man stepped out of the room, carefully closing the door behind him this time instead of slamming it as had become normal. He stared long and hard at the door after that, unmoving and rooted to the ground, his rival's final words oddly repeating in his mind over and over again until it sounded like someone was saying it repeatedly just to mock him. _The least you can do for_ him _is that_. 

It was obvious whom he meant by '_him_' in his last statement but what bothered him to no end was why it would be for 'him'. After much thinking, he finally moved. His fingers twitched and he lifted a hand up, examining it before looking up and to the door ahead then taking one small yet somehow significant step forward.

It wouldn't hurt to see, whatever it was. The Royal Historian was, for the first time in three years, going to attend a public function that would require him to mingle with the people of his Kingdom. When he reached the door, he stopped and pushed the strands of blonde hair falling over his eyes back before finally placing a hand over the cold, bronze knob of the door and turning it so slowly he could almost hear the gears working.

The door opened and when he stepped out he took in a deep breath, wondering how long it had been since he last stepped out of the Royal Library without 'work' and 'going back to quarters' in mind. Golden eyes narrowed as they focused on the hallway in front of him and the T-junction ahead. The hallway to the right would lead to the Grand Hall, where he knew his rival wanted him to go.

"Damn."  He grunted as he dug his hands into his pockets, eyebrows furrowing as his slender fingers searched for the pack of cigarettes he knew he had put in there earlier that morning. All this unnecessary thinking was really getting to his nerves and he cursed quietly again when he remembered he had set the pack on his study while working on a manuscript or two. Somehow, along the way, the thought of returning the pack to his pocket had never crossed his mind, until now that is. "Damn that Performer." He hissed as he dug both of his hands into his coat's pockets and quickened his pace.

When he reached one of the side-entrances to the Grand Hall, he was stopped by one of the guards upon entering and made to wait until they had his personally-handcrafted mask, made of bronze with crystalline-white diamonds encrusted and intricate markings carved on it, delivered to him. Thinking about how traditions should be damned, he put the mask on grudgingly wondering why they even bothered to bring demon prisoners in the presence of the King when they were just going to have everyone masked. He just found it so utterly unnecessary to have demons paraded in front of the people like that and it was just an added nuisance, having to put on a mask that is. If it were up to him, he'd just waltz into the hall without a mask. Demons didn't scare him, nothing ever did faze the infamous Royal Historian who gave everyone the impression he wasn't just your ordinary bookworm. For all he cared, they could burn his face into their brains and stalk and try to murder him for the rest of his miserable life. Of course, it was also fact that their dear Lord Tohma would never let anything touch him…

He tied the ribbons that would hold his mask in place securely to satisfy the guards stationed to the door and then walked into the Grand Hall in quietly, wanting nothing more but to blend into the crowd and be forgotten. 

The Grand Hall was filled with people whose faces were, just like his was, covered with their own distinctive masks. No two masks were the same - the patterns carved on each and every one, the number, the type of jewels, beads, other exotic ornaments that adorned them were all different, each defining the person they hid from the world. Yuki examined the men and women that chattered about and wondered what drove them to come to the Grand Hall whenever summoned just to see captured minions from the other side. Was it to help convince themselves that they were not fighting a losing war with the unknown darkness that ate away a bit more of their lands, their towns and their cities with each and passing day? To mock their enemies and further the disillusionment they all were drowning in? 

"Even Tohma isn't that bad." He found himself whispering quietly to himself as he pushed through the crowd, ignoring the tiny squeals and gasps from those who recognized his mask. He made his way until he was very close to the aisle and then stopped, not wanting to go further and be noticed by his brother-in-law, or his sister, or his rival. At the thought of the Performer he disliked having to refer to by name, he found himself suddenly wondering about the brunette's current whereabouts. He turned to the direction of the throne and the empty space beside the King's seat answered his suspicions, one of them at least. For one, the Scientist wasn't in the Grand Hall. _'The hypocrite._' He thought quietly as he tore his gaze away from the thrones again and looked around, wondering what everyone seemed to be waiting for. 

The huge, oak double-door that stood north of the thrones burst open, the loud booming sound prompting the Royal Historian to turn to its direction. He ran a hand through his hair and he watched in quiet wonder as Rage, the Fire Elemental Pillar of the West, walked in brusquely into the hall. The fiery-red mask on her face, encrusted by rubies and with flaring red feathers that bounced and danced in the wind created as she moved, hid her face and whatever emotion showed on her face but he felt tension. That and something he could name hit him when she passed by him. Practiced Empathy was useful at times like this, for a Historian especially whose job relied on finding the relative truth for the books that would tell the generations of tomorrow what happened in years past. 

Following the fiery Pillar were two soldiers who dragged along two prisoners in a rather inhuman fashion. He corrected himself for branding their method 'inhuman', remembering what demons did to prisoners from their side. 'Inhuman' was an understatement for what they did to his people. Chains bound the prisoners and a sack was placed above their heads to cover their faces and though that prevented Yuki from knowing anything about one of the prisoners (except for the fact that he was dressed very oddly) the other he knew had brown hair - long brown hair at that. They were forced to kneel down several feet away from the steps that led up to the elevated thrones.

"The Wind Pillar and I captured a total of five demons today." Rage's unmistakable voice sounded in the hall and the glee barely noticeable in it did not elude Yuki. At twenty-one, Rage was known to go all out with her Pillar duties. Rumors had it that she had lost a loved one or two to demons and now derived pleasure in extracting revenge from the demons that crossed her path. Of course, Yuki knew better, knowing a lot more than many people about Rage's family background. However it was, out of the seven Performers who had come and gone after the Western Prince, Taki's disappearance, Rage proved her worth. Having survived time and time again, she had convinced people she was not just a mere substitute to the missing prince but a complete and permanent replacement. 

"-two of them. Shapeshifters." Yuki caught the words in the middle of his musings and turned his attention to whatever Rage was about to do. _Shapeshifters_ - why had his rival asked for his presence then? Moreover made it seem like he was going to do…

Shapeshifters were uncommon but they were not non-existent. There was nothing spectacular about them either, and this one had to be no different… unless….

"They've taken on impossible forms." Rage went on almost ominously. "Forms they shouldn't have gotten…. Unless there's a spy… or _was_ amongst us, Highness." 

He watched as their Lord rose from his throne and took a step forward. His voice was quiet, questioning but as usual it did not lack the authority that had always been present within it. "Impossible forms?" Tohma questioned and Yuki imagined the arched eyebrow behind that mask. 

Rage nodded and Noriko, who had been standing in her usual spot beside the Queen's throne all along, took a step forward. "…This was the disturbance a few hours ago, right?" Rage nodded again in confirmation before spinning around and walking towards one of her prisoners. She positioned herself in front of the one with long-brown hair and took a handful of the sack over his head. 

"See." She said quietly before yanking the sack away.

Yuki found his breath knocked out of his lungs when the prisoner's face was revealed. Long brown hair cascading down shoulders, chocolate-brown eyes - it was virtually impossible for him to forget that face, not when he was Shu- 

Collective gasps filled the hall and Rage wasted no time to unveil the other one. Yuki didn't need to see any more when he saw pink. He pushed through the crowd and made his way towards them, not sure of what he wanted to do, but sure he wanted to get a closer look of this.

He weighed the pros and cons of tearing the mask from his face and after a few moments of inner conflict, he tore and threw it away before positioning himself behind the impostor.

"How dare you." He growled and reached to grab the impostor by the collar. He was only vaguely aware of the cry that had escaped the other impostor's lips, the lack of long, magenta-colored hair flowing down the boy's back and his own arms and eyes underneath that fringe that were like polished amethysts. 

Behind him, there was a loud gunshot. And when he opened his mouth to say something, the words that escaped his lips were not what he had intended to say, _at all_;

_"Get your fucking hands off him!"_

**End Chapter One.**

A/N: Editing went well enough – so much errors. *sighs* This time I'm gonna work on **Yuki 15**….

^_^


	2. 02 Estrangement

Disclaimer: Before we begin, let's say the standard disclaimer! Gravitation doesn't belong to me and if I did… um. It probably wouldn't be as fun as it is now! Maki Murakami does and for that we're all happy, ne? 

A/N: Took me forever to finish this one too, I just seem to take forever to finish whatever I do. Anyway, much thanks to my spanking-new beta, **Pato**** San**-sama who helped me beta this. If there are still a lot of problems, well, that's because I don't edit very well. ^_^; Anyway, I'm finally going to return to **Yuki** after this so to those who follow my other fic, "_Worry not!_" XD I just have a bad habit of doing things. Oh, and I hope to finish **Yuki 15** by the end of the next two-three weeks. I have horrible Grad exams, aka; exams all over the month of May. So I'll be scarce then… unless my muses hold Yukito hostage again. *growls* By the way, in case nobody's gotten it figured out, this is a direct sequel to my other (death-fic) **The Last Song**, so if ever you're interested, check that one out. Of course, you can always choose not to, doesn't matter much because this is pretty much a stand-alone project. ^__^ And once again, sketches:

http : // www . angelfire . com/games4/white_crescent/ryu-shuAU.jpg 

http : // www . angelfire . com/games4/white_crescent/TnRpost.jpg

http : // www . angelfire . com/games4/white_crescent/AU-SHUICHI_.jpg

TAMASHII NO RUFURAN 

[Estrangement] 02

****

_"Get your fucking hands off him!_"

The words rolled off his lips naturally, filling the whole room and prompting faces to turn in his direction. Smoke rose from the small handgun he held up with his hand, and he swept his eyes across the room, sharp, golden orbs filled with underlying threat. Puzzled by the dozens of masks that turned towards him after firing the gun, but not wanting this undeniably peculiar effect to show, he kept a straight face, and his lips were drawn into a careful, thin line. There was something surreal about being faced, suddenly, by a room filled with people, assuming that was what they were, clad in heavy, colorful attires and masks. Not a single face was in sight – just masks, an almost maddening number of them.  Slowly, he returned his gaze to the man with long blonde hair kept in a single, not-so-neat, ponytail whose back was on him, and whose hands were holding _his_ lover up by the collar.

The man made no movement, and Eiri opened his mouth again and ground his words out, "I said _Get. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off. Him!"_

He fired his gun again, its bullet slicing through the air and embedding itself on the painted dome ceiling above, and his lover's American manager, who by then had managed to catch up with him. The gun crazy blonde grabbed him by the arms to restrain him.  "_Yuki-san_ –grab a hold of yourself," the American cried in his accented Japanese. The normally lenient gun-toting manager sported a gravely serious face as he held the hand Eiri used to hold the gun behind his back. 

"Let go of me," the novelist hissed through clenched teeth as he turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of K. He struggled to get out of the American man's hold, but found freedom impossible – the American knew his restraining methods and for a brief few moments, he felt like a criminal. 

He glared straight ahead at the man who held his lover, blocked his view, and prevented him from seeing whether Shuichi was in pain. He had not moved, but had merely stood there, his obsidian black clothes a distinct contrast to the sea of colors around him, and Eiri wondered how much time had elapsed since he'd fired that gun. It felt like forever, but it must have been just a few minutes. 

Footsteps sounded behind him, and he heard Suguru's voice calling both K and his name.

"_Why the hell should I_?" 

The voice that had _surely_ come from the man had him stopping his struggle and his eyes widening. Slowly, the other man turned his head around, and when a pair of familiar, unfathomable, golden eyes, met his own from the other side of the room, he momentarily forgot how to speak. The same eyes narrowed as they surveyed him, and perhaps K and Suguru, who were restraining him too, with contempt. A golden eyebrow was arched, and the only human face revealed, with an all too familiar facial structure, stood out of the sea of colors. Smooth, pale skin, golden hair, and equally golden, though visibly sharper, eyes – that man had all these, and so did he.

_"Shapeshifters—_" the man said in his voice, and Eiri watched in a mixture of both horror and wonder as the man let go of his Shuichi and spun sharply on his heels to face them. The pink-haired singer fell to the ground with a thud, and that had Eiri snapping out of his momentary trance and Hiro scrambling towards his best friend's side. 

The man who looked like him except for the long hair he kept in a single ponytail behind his back stared in silence for a few minutes before curving his lips upwards into a cruel, little smirk. It amazed Eiri –was this how he looked whenever he did that to Shuichi before? Whenever he threw a snide comment at his lover with that smirk? 

"Tell me, how did you manage to copy _us_?" The man took a step forward and Eiri shot K a look that silently ordered the American to let him go. Eiri slipped out of K's grasp and took a few steps forward until he was head to head with the man who was accusing him of being a copy. "_Who_ did you get _it_ from?" the novelist's likeness demanded, his voice rising and falling just like how Eiri's would were he the one who spoke those words.

"_Who_ are _you_ calling a copy?" Eiri shot back, narrowing his eyes dangerously. Opposing golden eyes narrowed into slits. A blur of black flashed in front of Eiri, and before the blonde novelist could register what it had been, he found his mirror-counterpart's hands on his collar. 

"_You_," the word rolled off the other's lips and Eiri, taken by surprise yet unfazed, spread his lips into a thin line. He opened his mouth to get back at the other man, but was distracted by the sound of feet on stone floors making echoing sounds across the halls behind them, like war drums beating madly in the heat of battle, as they came closer. So, they'd finally caught up with them. They, especially K, had thought it odd that the halls would be empty and dead silent, with no guards in sight. How long had it been since they escaped from their respective cells with the help of K, who was the first one to break out, using one of the small guns he kept for emergency situations like these?

"Stand back, _Historian_," a quiet voice commanded, and following its source, Eiri found his eyes resting on a blonde man, his face hidden behind a mask of what looked to be pure gold encrusted with emeralds and topazes, standing on the podium at the very back of the Hall. His robes were long and heavy looking, deep green and gold in color – they pooled around his standing form majestically, almost as if it were on purpose.   "The guards will deal with them," the imposing man reasoned, his tone soft and even.

Eiri knew the eyes behind the black holes of the supposed-King's golden mask were fixed on his counterpart as he, after a few moments, finally complied with the direct order, and when a chill went down his spine he _knew_, though he saw no change in the King from where he stood, that those eyes were finally resting on him and him alone. "You have some nerve _shapeshifter_, knowing my guards are not as useless and unreliable as they seem."

The King took a few steps forward, down the podium and on the carpeted aisle. The crowd made way for him, making a bigger, wider path for the royalty. He stopped just a few meters away from him and Eiri noticed the slight height difference between the two of them.

"_Tell me_," the King began, lifting a gloved right hand and cupping his chin. "_How_ did you get _these_ forms, and what do you intend on doing to _my_ people?"

The guards poured in, surrounding the three of them, and pointing their spears imposingly to keep them in a small, tight circle. "_How_ much do you know?"

"_Yuki!_" his Shuichi cried. The singer's voice was charged with worry and fear, and Eiri gritted his teeth when several soldiers ran towards where Shuichi and his best friend were, and pointed their spears dangerously close to their throats to keep them both quiet and immobile. 

"If I told you we don't know _anything_ – what would you do?"

There was uproar, the masked lords and the women talking in hushed whispers altogether – the subjects of their hushed conversations undoubtedly their new captives. Eiri found it both intimidating and amusing – what did these people see in them? It was as though they were threatening, dangerous, _demonic _creatures. In his opinion, only one person in their group was qualified for those adjectives, and that was, obviously, his lover's crazy American Manager. 

"_Silence," _the order their King issued was brief and imposing, and there was complete silence in an instant. Laughter was cut-off suddenly; words held back for later – one had to wonder whether he had cast a spell to silence them. Their King, without a doubt, was as respected as he was feared. It reminded Eiri of Tohma, now that he thought about it, and somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered: if there was a man who looked and seemed to act like him in this… place, then what was the possibility of this King being the NG President's own counterpart?

The King took a few slow steps forward and placed a hand on a guard's shoulder, silently ordering the lower ranking man to move and give way for him. The guard complied, bowing lowly before stepping aside and allowing him into the tight circular wall the armed guards had made to keep the escapees in. 

"I have ways, _shapeshifter_—_"_ the King said softly and tilted his head sideways, turning to the nearest guard. Almost immediately, two guards came behind Eiri and within seconds had him in his knees. The small gun he held in his hands was knocked off in the impact and the small blunt weapon slid from his reach across the smooth marble floor. The King took another step forward, bent down to place a gloved hand over Eiri's head and grabbed a handful of those soft blonde locks. There was something Eiri couldn't identify with the simple action, and he was almost sure the King didn't do this on a daily basis, "_—_of finding the truth. You should know them by now. I'm quite famous for what I used to do back then," the King finished.

Eiri gritted his teeth when the King forcefully tilted his head up, and then placed his other hand on his right cheek, the cold silk of his gloves bringing unwelcome chills to the novelist. Hidden eyes surveyed him, eyeing each and every inch of his face. 

"You have no right to have this face, _shapeshifter_," the King said finally before rising up, letting his hands slip away from the novelist's face, his fingers smoothly trailing across smooth skin until it touched the empty air. He spun around, the layers on top of his many-layered robes that were made of a much lighter material swirling about his form. He stepped out of the circle and, with his back on them, lifted his right hand in a signal. He then pointed at Eiri.

"Get rid of them. Begin with this group–" the King ordered in a chillingly monotonous voice before continuing up the aisle and then back to his throne, "then bring the corpses to the laboratory."

Eiri's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to yell at the King in rage, only to find his voice gone. So that was why everyone was quiet, he thought grimly. _That_ was why it was unusually quiet – what did _he_ do to _them_? He growled when several guards marched up to him and took him by the arms. From the ground, he lifted his eyes to fix them on his lover, who was across the room, eyeing him worriedly. His heart swelled and his eyes widened suddenly when he saw those lips move slowly, and even despite the distance he was able to tell, to discern they formed his name.

_"Yuki_."  

Then Shuichi was forced down onto the floor roughly and Eiri saw red. He began struggling even more, writhing angrily against the guards who restrained him. He suddenly felt emboldened. The fact that Shuichi shouldn't be treated like this, _his_ Shuichi shouldn't be _hurt_ like this, it just fuelled his determination.

"You're a stubborn demon, aren't you?" the voice came from the man the King had referred to as _'Historian', _and when Eiri tilted his head to glower witheringly at his likeness, the Historian smiled. "I'm amazed by all this… effort… this… _humanity_ you display," the man's lips disappeared into a thin line as he spoke in a half-wistful tone laced with disbelief, "I can almost taste your rage." 

The Historian paused, a long pregnant pause that made Eiri think of how he'll never get used to watching a man who looked very much like himself doing things he would have done in other situations, and then spoke slowly in a low voice filled with raw hatred.

"I hope you die a long and painful death."

***

Golden eyes that had gradually lost a bit of the light within them with each passing day for the past three years stared down at the man under the Royal Guards' mercy. He didn't want to look, to watch this man who was his very own copy, a testament of what the demons they were at constant war with were capable of, but his eyes refused to heed his order and remained stubbornly fixed on his own likeness. He was Yuki Eiri; the fact that a demon had gotten a hold of his _form_ was nothing spectacular, in fact he'd been expecting, almost hoping for, it to happen sometime soon. But he had not been prepared to meet with one like the copy in front of him.

The way the shapeshifter, the vile demon, acted so much like him and yet very unlike him, unnerved the Royal Historian to no end. And he was sure, so very sure, he wanted this copy done for, regardless of whether they managed to get information out of him or not. It didn't matter to him, either, _how_ they killed him and his pitiful shapeshifting companions as long as it was, as he had previously stated with blunt honesty, slow and painful.

"_Historian,_" the voice sounded in Yuki's ears, calm and yet with tiny traces of impatience. His brother-in-law was scowling underneath that mask, Yuki was willing to bet, and he understood the underlying meaning the simple utterance of his title carried. He smiled, and slipped his hands into his pockets quietly before spinning around to pick up the mask he had discarded before, and then walked up towards the direction of the throne.

"Invite me to their execution. I'll be more than glad to attend _that_." 

The silence that followed was ominous, and the Royal Historian knew what it meant; the heretics' fates were sealed. His eyes narrowed, his eyelids shadowing his golden irises slightly as he concentrated and channeled his mind to the wavelength he guessed their King was broadcasting his verdict. He caught snippets of the broadcast, snippets which his mind summarized with the adjectives – long, arduous, effective and karmic – and his lips curved into a predatory smirk. As soon as he had what he needed, he channeled off immediately before anyone could notice his unwelcome eavesdropping and bowed down, muttering his excuse. He tried to keep the excitement in, the sadistic delight he derived from such information which he did not even think about putting a stop to. These demons deserved it, he told himself in justification. They had defied memories – he found his eyes wandering towards the pink-haired one – memories of the dead….

Blue eyes, far from the ethereal, exotic amethyst pools he had grown only too accustomed to, fixed on him, defiance clear within their depths. Something told him this was wrong, and that the image before his eyes couldn't have been what he'd automatically and absentmindedly passed as an error in the demon's part. There was something in those eyes that sent voices whispering and humming doubts into his mind.

_'Shuichi_…?' 

He tore his gaze away from the boy, the cheap imitation of someone who could _never_ be duplicated, and abruptly put his mask on. He determined himself to walk out the Grand Hall from where he entered and forget about this until he was called to witness their executions. He found himself stopping when the sound of doors opening from the other side of the room reached his ears, followed shortly by a familiar voice.

He turned around slowly and watched as the crowd parted to give way for the two new comers.

"I demand their release." 

The voice came from the shorter of the two, the one who wore a mask of silver encrusted with emeralds and opals, seashells and crystals – all of which were in varying hues of blue and green—and was clad in equally extravagant and rich robes as the King was. From the choice of her clothes and the long brown hair she kept up and decorated with many a golden ornament, it was plainly clear: she was a woman. Standing next to her, a whole head taller, was an Outsider, dressed in clothing that stood out terribly from all the other occupants in the room except the Royal Historian's and, perhaps, even the shapeshifters' with their foreign influence. He wore a simple mask of ivory and silver carved with designs that marked his status as Outsider and honored guest.

"Lady Sen, I cannot do that," the King said quietly. The newcomer swallowed hard before hastening towards the King's side and throwing herself at her feet before launching her protest.

"But you _can_," she lifted her head and the ornaments that hung on her mask jingled as they swayed against each other. "I take responsibility for them! Please grant me this that I wis—!" 

"You can't let your emotions reign over you like this, M'lady," Yuki cut in harshly, his voice as sharp-cutting as any blade. He took a step forward and glowered witheringly at the woman beneath his mask, not because she wanted to grant the shapeshifters release from a certain death, but because of her _motive._ He was sure everyone in the room had a vague idea, if not the whole knowledge, as of _why_ she would ask for such a thing.

"It's not her emotions she's following, _Mr. Yuki_," the other newcomer put in helpfully in defense of his mistress. "Oh, _Sorry_ – _Historian_," he corrected himself, amusement clear in his voice. He strode towards his mistress and helped her up. 

"It is fact," the Outsider stated simply with a smirk, before tilting his head towards the Royal Historian's direction. "_Historian_, ever heard of the saying "_Every stick has two ends"? _ Don't you think it's applicable here? Hmn?"

Yuki folded his arms across his shoulders and, not one to just accept an open verbal insult, quickly thought up an equally subtle yet sharp come back. "_Better the Devil you _know_, than the Devil you _don't, _Outsider_."

"Enough—" their King ordered silently, briefly giving both of them a warning glance before finally turning all his attention towards the Lady of Sen. "Why do you wish for their release, _Lady_?"

The young woman's head bowed slightly and she was thoughtfully silent for a few moments before finally raising her head up again and meeting the King's gaze. "Because I know they cannot be what you accuse them of being."

Yuki snorted and the Lady glanced briefly at him before speaking once more.

"If they are what they are then…they shouldn't know me. That is that." She bowed down and folded her hands on her midsection. "If you will let me do this then I shall be most grateful." 

The Royal Historian found himself breathing in deeply, hoping deep down for his brother-in-law's refusal. The woman was asking for her own death, and he knew it was for a useless cause. Why did she have belief in such beings? _Why_ was she doing this? He couldn't understand the logic beneath her reasoning anymore; this couldn't possibly be just because of that…. He was sure then that the woman knew something else _he _didn't, and he was willing to bet a certain Scientist was behind it all. 

But '_why_?' he found himself wondering again. 

"Then I will allow you this," the King said finally at length. And though the mask on his face let none of the concern he held for the fragile, only living member of the immediate _Sen_clan escape, it seemed to radiate, and Yuki caught tiny wisps of it. The only living pure _Senian_ had been tittering dangerously close to insanity for three years now, after having witnessed the death of all her immediate relatives and suffering the lost of her beloved older brother, and it took many people's joint efforts to keep her sane/lucid enough as to not kill herself. Maybe, finally, the woman had lost grasp of reality.

That explained it.

The Lady of Sen bowed down lowly, a traditional sign of showing gratitude that originated in Sen, and later on spread to the other kingdoms sometime two centuries back, according to records, and spun around. "If he knows me, then I would know." 

_'So she plans on seeing if he will be able to recognize her_,' Yuki thought grimly before stepping forward and falling beside the King. _'Just because she isn't as well known as her brother…._'

_'Bitter as always, Eiri-san?' _his brother-in-law's voice echoed in his mind unexpectedly, catching him briefly off guard. He sighed for letting his guard down momentarily, and instead of just closing the connection as he usually did, decided to continue with the mental conversation.

_'Why did you let her do that?_' the Royal Historian questioned pensively as he watched the Lady walk towards the pink-haired shapeshifter, as he'd expected. He was rewarded with a laugh that rang in his mind musically.

_'There was no stopping her. She was determined. Either way, they wouldn't be able to hurt her should they turn out to be demons… like you…' _There was a pause and the King continued without missing a beat, '_like _I_ expect them to be. The guards here will launch at them and kill them instantly the moment they arise suspicion.'_

_'It's useless, either way,' _Yuki snorted. '_Why bother, to begin with, when a much grandiose execution – a fitting addition to history books – can be staged.' _

_'But it is required,'_ the King corrected him softly, and shut the connection abruptly afterwards, leaving Yuki stunned. 

By then, the Lady had kneeled down on the floor beside the pink-haired impostor and had both of her hands placed on the boy's shoulders. The guards had dispersed around the two, their weapons drawn still and the tension was visible in them. Yuki stole a glance of the woman's sworn-in guardian and was appalled by the apparent lack of concern in the Outsider's body language. It was as if the man knew what was going to happen.

_'And if you are wrong…'_ A voice sounded in his mind.

"Listen to me," the Royal Historian heard the Lady tell the shapeshifter softly. "If you can…" she trailed off, in search of the right word for what she wanted him to do, and continued with much difficulty. "…name me… then I will let you and your friends go." 

"…and you'll let everyone… even Yuki go?," the impostor managed before knitting his eyebrows and nodding. "And… what… if I don't… name you…?"

"I hope you do," the Lady whispered softly so it was barely audible to Yuki, who strained his ears just to pick up every word used.  

"Alright…." The shapeshifter swallowed as long slender fingers began working the ribbon that kept the Lady's mask in place. Strands of brown hair tangled with those fingers as they shook ever so slightly with anxiousness and became damp with sweat; by the time all the ribbons had been undone, several ornaments had to be removed. 

_'Please remember me_,' Yuki caught the mental plea and frowned in distaste. 

The mask was slowly removed and even before it was laid on the ground beside her, a gasp had escaped the impostor's lips. 

Yuki couldn't believe the words that had so naturally stumbled out of the boy's mouth.

"Maiko?!"

***

The clock ticked away restlessly from a distant room and, slowly, a pair of tired eyelids rose, revealing broken and empty eyes of amethyst that stared listlessly at the dark ceiling ahead. A pair of footsteps reached ears that were more attuned to the silence than any other sound, and welcomed the intrusion, slowly, like a broken doll, the vessel rose, sitting up straight to meet their owner. Dark eyes drank in the slender form within a simple yet elegant kimono of white and purple, decorated scarcely with equally graceful and intricate lines and curves of deep purple. A pale hand reached out to close the gap with them, long slender fingers yearning to run themselves within the doll's long luxurious purple hair. 

The owner bent forward to press his mouth on his doll's soft forehead. "You felt it too, didn't you?" 

There was no reply and then he smiled, his lips still pressed onto the doll's skin, "I'm sending _you_ to investigate. You haven't had fun in ages…. I'm sure… you're restless… Mmm.."

"….Rest….less…" Was the soft rasp that reached the owner's lips and he smirked, delighted. 

"Yes." 

Fingers, learned and experienced, quickly worked on the doll's kimono then, their owner wanting to rid his ownership of them as soon as possible, and he ignored the sharp, defiled cries that sounded in his mind over and over again as his mouth worked its way on his doll's breasts.

**End Chapter Two.**

Okay, time for responses to reviews from both FanfictionNET and GurabiteshiyonNET ^_^! Love you all, btw! Thanks for reviewing XD: 

Pat-chan – Beta-san-sama XD! Thanks for beta-ing this and being an awesome person, yeaaaah! ^_^ I don't know what else to say. *glomps* Get **War of Hearts 10** out soon! You have rabid fangirls who are willing to use their pointy, shiny objects of doom to get the chapter they want… I mean, not that I'm one of the—eh… uh. ^_^ *pokes* Post up **In Over Your Head** soon too, I need more YukixShuxHiro smut…. 

Bunny-chan –  *muses purr* And they love you too XD Taki plays a nice big part in here and I'm gonna make him extra sinister/cool for you XD Anything for Bunny-chan-sama… anything within my reach anyway… ;_; XD And you reviewed twice! I love you! 333333 lol, can't wait to have Shu possessed, ne? Maybe next chapter… XD

saku~ya – I have a bad habit of leaving evil cliffhangers, bear with me and my equally evil muses. But, this wasn't so bad now, was it? *_* Thanks btw! I'm glad you like my fanfics XD! Makes me uber happy knowing that… hee… … head… puffing…

The Phantoms – *pokes* I want KNnM X9! No way, I find your writing good too – it may not be as good as you think it is but has an uber lot of potential. Mmm.. KNnM makes me a happy fangirl and makes me think of how it'll end and unravel though. It's _good_. ^_^ Anyway, I took forever with this one and it makes me wonder if it's taken a turn to becoming more like or unlike KNnM. ^_^; This is a sequel though, a direct one, to **The Last Song** – you read that, ne? Piece things up ^___^!! 

moonlight2 – Gravi!Yuki will be henceforth referred to as Eiri while AU!Yuki will be called Yuki. It's a good thing I won't have to deal with Shuichi like this. What are you gonna call Gravi!Shu and AU!Shu? X_x Anyway, how'd you like this chapter? 

dark-kagome2 – I'm not sure about this one's plot though. See, if you read **The Last Song** there's not much surprise (I'm not kidding!), I think. And I got **Yuki 14** out, so… off to work on **Yuki 15**! 

Sukura – ^__^ Enjoy :-D I hope you enjoyed this chapter ^_^!

So, I'm done, finally. Time to work on **Yuki 15** as soon as possible. I'm working on far too many things at the same time and **Suikoden**** II** isn't helping much… In other news, I finished **.hack//infection **this weekend and just started with **mutation**! So happy ;_; I'm currently reading **Don't Eat the Daisies! **by **Aja**/**imaybe1**, **In Over Your Head** by my beta, **Pato**** San** (aka, Pat-chan ^_^) and am planning to read a few more Gravi fanfics. **Breaking Away** was updated, making me a happy fangirl too! XD! Other than that, I'm drowning in many fanfics from many different fandoms… *3*  

^_^


End file.
